


Fabrics and Stars

by HogwartsToAlexandria, SasTMK (OutOfLuck)



Series: Marie's Events and Bang Fics [11]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Astral Projection, Banter, Caretaking, Cloak of Levitation (Marvel), Digital Art, Digital Painting, Falling In Love, Fantasizing, Flirting, Getting Together, Hopeful Beginnings, Loki (Marvel) Feels, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:07:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23108230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HogwartsToAlexandria/pseuds/HogwartsToAlexandria, https://archiveofourown.org/users/OutOfLuck/pseuds/SasTMK
Summary: "He'd been given the perfect occasion for one of his old fashioned tours, an et voilà moment of trickster glory, and yet…And yet, Loki had stayed put, and bit the inside of his cheeks, and counted his fingers behind his back and looked into the eyes of the one person in the room he had never seen but heard of before.Doctor Stephen Vincent Strange.Where Loki is smitten but doesn't say it in those words, and Stephen thinks he's annoyed, but really he isn't.
Relationships: Loki/Stephen Strange
Series: Marie's Events and Bang Fics [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1649737
Comments: 10
Kudos: 95
Collections: Marvel Rare Pair Bang 2019





	Fabrics and Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Hey here is our collab! Written for Sas' fantastic art I sincerely hope you'll enjoy the story and will feel the butterflies inside you once you get to the art piece! 
> 
> I wanna thank Sas for submitting his art to this really great event, therefore giving me the occasion to write this but most importantly sharing the sweetness and warmth that is his style. ❤
> 
> This was beta'd by the amazing Betheflame, thank you.

To say he didn't know how he'd ended up here would be a lie. Loki knew, somewhere deep within, down denial street and past self-loathing corner, he'd known from the start. But looking into the man's eyes right now, he wasn't sure _he_ had known. His cloak though, was another story. 

There was dust on his shoulder, blood on his cheek that was definitely not his own, and a few sparks still going on behind his eyelids every time he so much as blinked - the result of too much magic too quickly, both of his own doing, and that of a sorcerer he'd yet to meet in more comfortable circumstances. Not that Loki was particularly seeking a meeting with the man. Not that it would matter if he did really. Stephen Strange was not the approachable kind, or so Loki had gathered for himself over the eight months since he'd been dragged back to Earth for his trial. 

* * *

There had been interrogations, days spent in a cell none of the Midgardians realized he could have easily broken out of, and a few more weeks spent being ushered in and out of buildings, and cars, and court rooms for closed hearings. All of it leading up to that final moment of consideration two months prior, the Avengers team on one side of the room, a tight panel of senators at their left, and the direction of New SHIELD and a few other people Loki had gathered were the leaders of the UN's intelligence community on yet another side of the room - a circle of brains and muscles, all eyes on him. For the great honor it was, Loki had smiled at each and every one of them, maybe a little too sarcastically. They'd given him the perfect occasion for one of his old fashioned tours, an _et voilà_ moment of trickster glory, and yet… 

And yet, Loki had stayed put, and bit the inside of his cheeks, and counted his fingers behind his back and looked into the eyes of the one person in the room he had never seen but heard of before. 

Doctor Stephen Vincent Strange. 

There was a light in his eyes, a glow on his skin, a cliché of wizardry and just a hint of mischief hidden in the way the man had carefully glared him down. The chairs New SHIELD provided for this sort of meetings were uncomfortable, the kind where pinpricks of tension radiated from your back and behind within ten minutes of being made to sit on them. Loki had had ample opportunity to experience it over the past half year. Stephen Strange though, looked at ease, his long legs were crossed at just the right angle to cast a shadow from the overhead that made them look even thinner, him even taller. 

Loki had stared, he'd stared without looking like he was. He was pretty sure no one in the room had seen the way he'd been fascinated. No one but the one person he couldn't take his eyes off. 

The politicians had talked at each other, the spies had whispered amongst them, the Avengers had done their thing too. Stephen Strange had not said a word, had barely reacted to the way Thor was boisterously calling for his release and Loki had grinned, watching everyone in the room, waiting to be told what way to go - back to his cell, to Asgard, or into the world. 

Thanos was dead, Tony Stark back on his feet with - Loki suspected - the power of his inventions, certainly, but also a fair bit of magic. The only ones missing were the Scarlet Witch and her AI-robot-turned-human boyfriend as, he found out later on, they were being cared for in Nepal.

Stephen Strange was the first to leave the room once Nick Fury got up from his seat and called the vote that freed Loki. It was a whole swish of clothing and sparkle of orange, glowy magic that transformed into a circle portal as soon as the doors opened in front of the man. Dramatic. Loki liked that - _surprising, right?_

* * *

So no, Stephen Strange was not the kind to sit around and chit-chat with the rest of the Avengers, Loki understood later he did not really appreciate being called one to begin with - _I am the Sorcerer Supreme, Asgardian_. 

_'And I am not Asgardian, mortal.'_ Loki had wanted to snap right back after that little jaunt of a battle he'd been invited to and that had led to Stephen Strange being forced to take him back with him to the Sanctum. Had to inspect that blood on his cheek. 

Alien-goo-blood-thing-whatever. 

And here they were.

Loki let him have his fun. He sat down where he was told to sit - an old-timey bathroom with mosaics for windows and blue earthenware for appliances. He tried not to grin too hard every time the sorcerer was forced to touch him to complete the diagnostic spells he was performing. He could tell the man was not really fond of contact. 

"If you told me what you're looking for, I could, possibly, help." Loki said, an eyebrow raising in time with that of the other man. 

"No thank you." The sorcerer clipped. 

Loki noticed the faint tremor in the hands that gently wiped at his cheek, and then at his clothes - sullied as well. The man's eyes were laser-focused, his fingers shook, sure, but they also glowed, the pads of them lit up with the strength of his spells. Loki had had a fair amount of lovers in his thousand and then some years of existence, but in that moment, he thought maybe, this would be the one time he wouldn't get what he wanted, because it was the one time he was close to tongue-tied. 

Loki felt like he could almost touch Stephen Strange's aura, a sort of halo that was both light and what mortals called trauma. The lines on his hands weren't remotely straight enough to be any kind of ritual scarring, and the way the man had been wearing his sleeves and sometimes even gloves over them every single time he'd seen him before, that, told Loki all he needed to know about his liking of them. He still asked though. 

"What are those from?" 

It was a rather innocuous question. It got him a chuckle. A darkish, lovely thing that fled the mouth of the man who was now inspecting Loki's sleeve with the utmost attention. 

"None of your business isn't something you hear a lot, is it?"

"You'd be surprised."

Stephen Strange stared at him then, his eyes not the blue that they'd been that first time Loki had really looked into them back when he was dragged in front of his royal court of idiot judges. They were gray, and piercing, and utterly unimpressed. 

"None of your business." Strange articulated each word before once again raising an eyebrow at him. 

Loki laughed. 

"Are you quite done with this? The smell is atrocious, so I'd rather be getting on with clean-up now." 

"Almost. You have some…" Strange trailed of, his fingers combing clumsily in Loki's hair right as it cascaded down his shoulder. 

Silence draped over them again, and Loki thought ridiculous thoughts - his imagination working to picture this man against that wall behind him, his mouth open on a gasp and his hands tied up above his head… He invoked images of Thor to war off his excitement as a particularly vivid string of notes assembled in his mind to form what he thought could be a moan worthy of the sorcerer. 

"All done. You can leave." 

Loki heard him, he did, but his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth for once. A strand of hair had fallen like a fringe over the sorcerer's forehead some time during his careful inspection and Loki's fingers twitched with the need to brush it back behind the man's ear - which would be totally inappropriate, not that Loki had ever particularly cared for proper behavior, but something still kept him from reaching up. 

"What if I don't want to leave?" He said to the already retreating sorcerer instead, and watched as Doctor Stephen Strange froze on his way out the door. 

Strange turned on his heels slowly, watching him where Loki was still perched up on the meager dining - if he had to guess - table of the Sanctum. His hands were back to being hidden in the folds of the deep blue robes Loki had fantasized about taking off him a fair amount since that first time he'd seen the man wear them. There was something about the way Strange stood in them that made Loki wonder what he looked like outside of them, be it in regular Midgardian clothing, or, admittedly more often, naked. He couldn't help going back to his conclusion that once the rough exterior was peeled off, Stephen Strange might be the exact flavor Loki enjoyed in life and bed. The picture of uncertainty, even if he was trying very hard not to let it show, just like now, still standing on the threshold of the room, still gauging him with that same razor-blade gaze. 

"Why would you want to stay is what I'm wondering." Strange eventually revealed, turning to face him fully again but staying in his spot by the door. 

His posture was already more relaxed, not fully leaning on the door but he hadn't put his hair back into place, _per Frigga he was gorgeous_. 

Loki carefully considered his next words, when did he not, before folding his hands on his lap, watching as the good doctor's eyes followed their movement before Loki chuckled. 

"I am forced to live with my dear brother, Sorcerer, there isn't a moment I am not trying to escape _that_." Loki put emphasis on that last word, well-aware that the way the man’s eyes had flashed when he'd talked of escaping meant that, while he hadn't appeared very concerned with the proceedings during Loki's trial, he was still very much up to date when it came to the rules of his parole. "If you have a bathroom, that I could use?"

Silence stretched, thick between them, a little boring if Loki was honest, as Strange pondered. There was a sort of ticking in the background, and gentle wisps of wind that Loki knew only happened in buildings inhabited by magic, nothing at all to do with the elements. The Sorcerer's face showed signs of doubt, signs of exasperation, and signs of fatigue, all which Loki was used to, people tended to look like that around him, had always done so, but the tiredness in the man's features for once did not seem to be directed at him. 

He looked like the world was resting on his shoulders even though all he really wanted was to take a nap that would last three days, and even though Loki couldn't exactly relate to that level of responsibility, especially not since all he did lately was stay idle and try not to go his merry tricking way out of boredom, but it made something else stir inside him - a curiosity he hadn't felt for another being in a long time. It was surprising, to say the least, but he did not get to investigate himself much further than that - Strange cleared his throat as he nodded. 

"Bathroom, fine. Follow me." 

"A man of few words," Loki whispered, grinning as he hopped off the table and indeed, followed the man deeper into the house. 

As he watched the way the Cloak billowed around the sorcerer's shoulders and body alike, Loki missed his own cape. He remembered the comfort he'd been able to take from the grand attitude he felt it gave him, and felt nearly destitute without it now. Loki didn't snort - first because it was undignified, second because he didn't want to attract the other man's attention and third because attracting the other man's attention with a snort would be even more of a disgrace than if he indulged by himself. He still found himself ridiculous. It was just a damn piece of fabric. 

Except, apparently _not_. 

Just as he'd thought the words, Strange's Cloak had flown one of its corners in Loki's direction, lifting to reach him as he walked behind the Master of the house and swatting at his thigh - not hard enough to hurt, but still enough to show its disagreement. 

" _Not_ just a piece of fabric then, got it." Loki said. 

"Pardon me?" Strange looked over his shoulder. "What did you say?"

"Nothing of importance," Loki replied, only barely keeping himself from winking - he'd spent too much time in Stark's company; Thor ought to choose his friends better. 

That wasn't actually true or fair, as, Loki had had the opportunity to see, Tony Stark had been one of the rocks that hadn't budged when it had come to defending him and acting for his release, helping Thor in his demands and keeping him within the frame of Midgardian politics, at which Stark excelled, and which still very much evaded his brother's grasp. _But winking?_

"Here." Strange stopped in front of a door, which he pushed with a little wave of his hand - the unnecessary magic once again telling Loki that the man avoided using his hands when he could. Interesting. "Anything you may need is in the cupboards under the sink. Do not use those behind the door. Do not wander around once you are done. I will be in my study. Down the hall." Strange's gaze was suspicious, but not overly so, he was being cautious, and of that Loki couldn't blame him. 

"Thank you," Loki gave a small bow, only a tad sarcastically, and stepped in, waiting for the man to nod and start walking towards the aforementioned study before he closed the door behind him. 

The bathroom was nothing special, apart from the few artefacts Loki recognized as having an Asian style to them in the motifs and colors, even faded as they were, it was just a shower - not too small though, he could recognize a nicely-sized shower even by Earth's standards which were admittedly much lower than Odin's; two sinks - which made Loki wonder if Strange and his sidekick brushed their teeth together or something; and a few cupboards with the door still hanging up through sheer will of the house. He liked it. 

Slowly, mindful of the few hits he hadn't been able to dodge, which had left a few bruises purpling on his sides, Loki undressed, layer after layer, until he stood naked and could wiggle his toes on the plush carpet lying at the door of the shower - the only thing that looked new in the room, and maybe even the Sanctum as a whole. The water was thankfully warm, almost too hot at first. It was delightful. Loki couldn't help the soft moan of relief he let out, the water cascading down his back felt too good, too necessary… Thor's shower was gigantic, sure, but the magic infused in the very walls of the Sanctum seemed to make this a whole new experience on Midgard for Loki, a taste of the past when Asgard lived and thrived in the glory of its mysticism. 

Loki sighed, rubbing every possible corner of his body, passing his fingers over his chest and face and hair and finding his mind was wandering back to other fingers in his hair, and hesitant gray eyes and… before he knew it his hand was meandering down the planes of his abdomen and he was taking himself in hand.

A gasp left his lips at the first upstroke, his whole body shaking with tension and relief all at once. He generally liked to take it slow when he took care of himself like this, work himself up, make sure he was writhing and desperate by the time he pushed himself down the cliff of oblivion. Today was different. Stephen Strange was different. 

It wasn't nearly the first time Loki touched himself like this with his head filled with thoughts and images in the shape of the good doctor. Yet, today was special. Loki's hand sped up of its own accord, his hips canted forward tl fuck into the tight circle of his fingers, his fingers themselves tightened around his arousal until he feared the noises he made would reach the ears of his fantasy. It was thrilling, and yet peaceful. 

The small wisps of the hair at his temple stuck to his forehead with both sweat and the steamy water still pouring down on him. The sparks that ran through him, sparks of lust, but more, too, it seemed. Sparks of want, of yearning. Something about Strange called to Loki, tugged at something deep within, something he didn't like to look at too closely, ever, and yet found himself reaching for as he summoned more visions of a sorcerer laying on his back, clawing at white sheets, lips parted and crying for release. 

He let go at the same time as the Strange of his daydream collapsed in orgasm. He came, hard, and so good, over his head and down in splotches over the shower's tiles at his feet. Loki was still trembling by the time his breathing calmed down and he pushed himself off the wall of the shower. He closed his eyes briefly, smiled a private, satisfied smile, and got on with his clean-up.

The towels of the Sanctum, as it turned out, were extremely comfortable, plush, and warm and Loki indulged himself burrowing in a cocoon of them for a bit. He looked at himself in the mirror, saw how flushed his cheeks were from what he'd just done and decided to keep it that way, seeing no reason to mask it with a charm when his body would certainly get rid of it soon enough. Plus, if Strange happened to see his blush for what it was, the results may be interesting. Loki's imagination ranged from hot, imagining the sorcerer's lips parting in shock, or confusion, or arousal - and at the very least, it would be informational, no sense pursuing an uninterested man. Loki was done with unattainable goals - like hoping for Odin's recognition - a waste of time and valuable energy. 

Looking at his clothes pooled in a heap by the door, Loki grimaced. For the first time ever, he wished he was home, even though he wasn't quite sure what that meant, never had, but at least Thor's apartment had the rest of his clothing. The outfit he'd worn into battle was dirty and stinky. Loki had held it up earlier, but he did feel tired, and lazy enough to not feel like investing more of his strengths into a cleaning spell or another. 

So he left the bathroom in nothing but the large beige towel he'd wrapped around himself. It really was comfortable. 

He walked out of the room, the steam from his long shower gushing out with him and into the hallway, and started down in the same direction the other man had seemed to go in after he'd left him to clean up. A few steps down there was a first door, but it was locked, so Loki kept going. He passed another two doors, one equally sealed and the other, revealing a bed of linen sheets and a little dresser - very spartan - was plunged into near darkness, and empty of any Stephen Strange. 

The fourth door was his luck, both ajar and leading into a study, with big shelves collapsing under the weight of a hundred books and an equally massive desk behind which Loki finally found the man. 

Any reaction he hoped to have as he made his entrance in the room, in nothing but a towel and knowing his eyes and face still hinted at the truly pleasurable experience he'd just had in the bathroom, was rendered null and void when he realized Strange had fallen asleep. The man was sitting with his back straight to his chair and his head lolling to the side in the most perfect picture of an impending stiff neck. He'd have nonetheless looked peaceful, if it weren't for the small spasms of his hands and the way his mouth tore at moans of pain that immediately put Loki on high alert. 

He first thought the man was in the middle of a nightmare - he'd been there quite often in the last half a year, his mind working to understand what exactly he was supposed to do with his life now - but walking around the desk to make sure, Loki quickly realized it wasn't the case. 

"Imbecile," Loki hissed before quickly letting go of the towel to summon his shift from the bathroom. He put it on as quickly as he could, letting it fall to cover himself to mid-thigh before taking the last few steps towards the sorcerer. The bleeding sorcerer. 

There was a small pool of it on the side of his chair and his outfit, belts and robes alike were coated in wet-looking red stains all the way from the left side of his ribcage to his hip. _What in Frigga's name..._

Out of the corner of his eye, Loki saw the Cloak rushing to them and before he knew it, the red piece of sentient fabric was swatting at the hand he was attempting to pass over Strange. 

"I'm not harming him! I'm trying to help him, get out of the way if you want him to get better!" Loki exclaimed, tugging his still wet black hair to one side. 

He'd had no doubt the cloak would understand him as it had proved more clever than Rogers and Barton put together in the few times Loki had been able to interact with it - which weren't many - but the way it immediately backed away to float over its master like a worried relative still took Loki by surprise. 

"Strange?" Loki put a hand to the man’s face, angling his jaw as he tried to wake him up, "Strange? Can you wake up?" 

He let a few seconds pass, tried shaking the man's shoulder a bit but the faint cry of pain it brought out of him made Loki stop immediately. 

"Ok, ok, let's… can you help?" Loki looked up at the Cloak, and almost smiled at it understood him and instantly started to push and pull at its master's writhing form. "The bedroom down the hall?" Was all he had to say before he was following the floating form of the Sorcerer Supreme flown out of the room by its loyal relic. 

Loki flexed his fingers and biceps, hoping he had enough strength left in him to help. The picture he was greeted with when he entered the room after them, the Cloak having deposited the man at the center of his bed, both awed and horrified him. He couldn't die. Not like this. Absolute fool spending his magical resources on him when he was hurt himself. Loki didn't have time to sort through the immense confusion that burst inside him at the realization. 

Loki kneeled on the bed by the unconscious man’s side, "Alright, time to heal you, Doctor Stephen Vincent Strange." 

* * *

He'd fallen asleep, without knowing why or how or really questioning it, all he'd known before everything turned black was a bright flash of pain whited out his vision and pushed him back in his chair, a small gasp on his lips and his hands echoing that pain by gripping the armrests before going lax. 

The battle had gone swiftly once they'd figured out that the gooey aliens were nothing more than a ploy from Stephen's most recent nightmare Ebony Maw, turned back from the dead by some glitch in the reality stone's handling - well, until today though. There was no more of her to be found now that Stephen, and, he had to admit, Loki's magic had gone to work on rendering her harmless and she'd faded away with the shard-like screech that Stephen had heard in many a dreams since that long ride to Titan years before. 

Stephen hadn't trusted Loki's presence in the earlier battles after his trial. He'd been on edge every time he had to rely on him to _'have his six'_ like Stark liked to call it through the comms. He'd greeted his teeth at every wink the trickster sent his way. He'd blinked at the ceiling of his room in the dead of night, wondering why those same winks came back to prevent him from finding rest, while Cloak came back to brush one of its corners on his cheek like it understood something he didn't - no matter amount of swatting it away made it stop.

It had changed though. Because New SHIELD had demanded Stephen keep an eye on him, which Stephen had blissfully ignored with as much scorn as he could put into _not_ doing something. But then Stark had asked, and not because he didn't trust the man, but because, he'd said, Loki didn't always know what was good for him, and Thor had never been able to keep his brother from doing exactly what he wanted, and Stark wanted Loki to make his parole. For whatever reason. Most probably the fact that he'd been a big part of how Tony made it through reeducation after he was pulled out of the coma snapping put him in. Stephen hadn't asked for details on that, hadn't asked for more than what Stark gave him when he came to ask Stephen to make sure Loki wouldn't bring trouble onto himself. He'd acquiesced, and watched Stark leave, and found a way to track Loki discreetly. 

It wasn't that hard, considering that the first three months of his parole were also homebound ones. 

Stephen sighed deeply, watching himself lying in bed, his astral form floating over Loki's kneeling form. He'd almost protested when Loki cursed him, but he had to admit, ignoring the last Maw's tortures, a shard of her glass thrown into his abdomen, right in one of the interstices between his belts, his flesh so tightly bound he hadn't felt it right away… well, that had been a huge mistake. A mistake he hadn't been able to fix by himself once he'd finished checking up Loki, and in Wong's absence, he'd tried to rest to restore his magic, he really had, but the evidence was there - he'd failed. 

He looked pale, his face almost translucid, and his chest, as Stephen found out when Loki's careful but all the same unbothered fingers got rid of his clothes, had the same pattern. Well... Except for that ghastly, bloody wound right under his ribcage. 

Stephen wished there was something he could do, something he could say to help Loki. He wished he'd not been such an imbecile indeed. He wished… 

Loki's fingers started to glow with the grin of his own magic just as Stephen started to feel his astral form thinning, losing substance as he lost more and more of his capacity to project it, leaving him in time with the blood that pooled at his navel and on the bedsheets. Stephen blinked, and blinked again, strengthening his grip on this dimension, on this moment, on the way Loki's hands brushed over his face, then his neck, and everywhere but the wound itself before he pushed at Stephen's belly and clapped his hands, a ball of grin forming between them as he drew them apart, and rushing towards and into Ebony Maw's handy work before disappearing. Stephen's body took a pale grin halo, and the grin on Loki's face when he looked up at the ceiling was more relieved than it was triumphant like Stephen had thought it might be. 

That same confusion he'd felt the rare times he'd seen Loki look like this - genuine, open - both in secret and out in the world, washed over Stephen. And the world turned black again, his astral form sucked back into his body, his mind needing to be focused on whatever damage his body was trying to cope for even after Loki had apparently healed him - the last thing Stephen saw before he was pulled back was his wound sealing itself back. 

Stephen found himself hoping Loki would still be here when he woke up. Whenever that would be. 

* * *

How long Loki spent watching the face of the unconscious sorcerer, he wouldn't be able to tell. How long did he sleep after that? Impossible to tell as well. All he knew was there was something inside him, something he hadn't felt in a long time, or ever really, stirring in his chest and making his fingertips tingle, something ridiculous that he would never admit to, not even to himself. Something that made him long to see the other man's face again even as his eyes closed by themselves, exhaustion claiming him right here, on the man's bed, in a house that was not his own and in as little clothing as he'd been able to summon when he'd lunged for Stephen Strange back in his office, which wasn't much. 

And yet, the first sensation he could get a grasp of once he came to was warmth, an infinite, perfectly measured, perfectly comfortable warmth that enveloped him whole, that had made his sleep deep, deeper than he'd found in years, probably. He did not immediately find the cause of it, nor did he try to, life much too good under this wave of gentle, weighted heat. 

The cloak. It turned out to be the cloak, and Loki didn't need one more second to realize it once he'd batted his lashes enough to see again and an ocean of red fabric had been the first and only thing he'd been able to discern in the rather dark room. He'd never liked the dark when he slept, and yet he found he didn't mind it here. 

The next thing he felt was a gaze, piercing at his temple, and when he looked up, the gray gaze of the man he'd pushed his last strength into helping before he passed out was right there, fixed on him. 

In a rare bout of speechlessness, Loki stared back, his vision still slightly blurred by the remnant of his nap. He searched the other man's eyes, looked into him almost, and tried to read what he was silently being told. Stephen Strange was always particularly good at being blank, Loki had found. He didn't look blank now. 

"I knew you were a nice guy." Strange croaked out then, his voice sounded rough like it hadn't been used for days on end - Loki's lashes fluttered, it was pleasant. 

Then he scoffed. 

"Oh really?" He whispered. 

"Really." Strange smirked.

He still looked paler than death, his lips grayish and his forehead shining with beads of sweat, but that smirk illuminated his face somehow. 

The third thing, the one thing Loki should have taken notice of right away though, came to him then, just as he thought about how he was falling for a man who probably had nothing but contempt for him, even if he did it well enough. The cloak was wrapped around both of them, resting over their bodies as they laid side-by-side, and curling around their edges, so much so that Loki knew now, that the heat he felt was as much the relic's warmth as it was the sorcerer's, and wasn't that an odd sensation. 

"Well, I believe you mortals would call this awkward." Loki said, trying to sit up as he did. He couldn't. The cloak pushed him back on the bed seemingly effortlessly. "Your clothing is restraining me, Strange "

Something passed over Strange's features, one more expression Loki didn't know how to decipher. 

"Can you say something? They didn't teach Strange on Asgard." 

"Thank you." Strange whispered then, the little smile that formed at his lips at Loki's answering frown once again smoothening his features, and tugging at that same achy place inside Loki. 

"Why are you thanking me? You would have done the same." 

"And you wouldn't have been grateful?" Strange raised an eyebrow at him. 

Loki chuckled, nodding into the fabric of the cloak. 

"You're welcome." 

A beat of silence passed again, spreading and covering them in an easy quiet - it was never this quiet at Thor's place. 

"I heard you call me an imbecile." Strange said after a while, the twinkling light that was back in his eyes, the same Loki had noticed anytime he'd said something sarcastic at someone on the board of his judges and executioners, showed Loki the man wasn't too mad about it. 

"I speak the truth and nothing but the truth." Loki smiled. "You could have healed that yourself, instead of wasting your time and powers over me."

"Neither of those things were wasted." 

The moment took on a new charge. Loki’s eyes snapped to Strange's. His fear and the promise that was keeping their eyes locked battled for the ascent, Loki wasn't sure which one he leaned more towards, but if he was to live confined on Midgard, then discovering Stephen Strange was not a bad past time.

He turned to lie on his stomach, pillowing his head in his arms without breaking their eye contact, almost biting his lower lip at the way Strange's face softened, the lines of his mouth calling Loki's name. Gingerly, Loki reached for them, slowly enough that the sorcerer could push him away and out of the bed if he was reading this wrong, Loki brushed his index finger over the man's lips. Strange let him, a slight frown Loki interpreted as pleasure brought his eyebrows together. 

Not a bad past time at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked this, and if you loved the art as much as I did, make sure to give Sas the shoutout he deserves! Thank you for reading 😘


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